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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24355453">The Little Moments</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinnamonRolle/pseuds/SinnamonRolle'>SinnamonRolle</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Fragments in TIme [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shall We Date?: Obey Me!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood, Cheering Up, Cream Puffs, Crying, F/M, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Gender-neutral Reader, It’s just you appreciating the demon bros, Licking, M/M, Nail Polish, Nightmares, No Gore, Other, POV Second Person, Scars, Whipped Cream, mentions of the great celestial war, soft hours, tags updated as i go</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 06:49:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,033</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24355453</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinnamonRolle/pseuds/SinnamonRolle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the little moments, where time seems to suspend around them, that you love the most. </p><p>It's the little moments, where they are left bare for you to see, that you love the most. </p><p>It's the little moments, where it's just you and them, that you love the most because the world does not exist outside of them. The world does not exist, and there's nothing out there that could ever change how much you love them. </p><p>So you show them. You show them how utterly beautiful they look in your eyes, how utterly brave they are, how utterly in love you are. Every side of them, the good, the bad, the in-betweens―you'll love it all.</p><p>You just hope they will believe you.</p><p>-------<br/>1 - That moment when Mammon made you ramen.<br/>2 - That moment when Lucifer saw you napping in the common room.<br/>3 - That moment when Asmodeus cheered you up.<br/>4 - That moment when you baked cream puffs with Leviathan.<br/>5 - That moment when you found Satan covered in blood.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Levi | Leviathan/Reader, Leviathan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader, Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Fragments in TIme [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2306426</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>350</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. 1 - That moment when Mammon made you ramen.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>[Mammon: im in the kitchen]</em>
</p>
<p></p><div class="">
<p></p><div class=""><p>
      <em>[Mammon: are u hungry?]</em>
    </p></div><div class=""><p>It was nearing 3 am when the buzzing of your D.D.D. brought you away from the complicated mess of Devildom history. Words were starting to blur, but after catching the white whisp of Mammon’s hair in his profile picture, you rubbed your eyes in an effort to read his messages. </p></div><div class=""><p>
      <em>[You: now that you’ve mentioned it, yeah]</em>
    </p></div><div class=""><p>Three dots briefly popped up before two more texts came your way.</p></div><div class=""><p>
      <em>[Mammon: okay!]</em>
    </p></div><div class=""><p>
      <em>[Mammon: ill whip up my special cup ramen!!]</em>
    </p></div><div class=""><p>Before you knew it, you were smiling at the screen. Trust Mammon to brighten up your day. Although, you were a little concerned that he was still up at 3 AM, not that you had any right to speak because you were up as well. You had an inkling though.</p></div><div class=""><p>
      <em>[You: :o thank you mammon]</em>
    </p></div><div class=""><p>
      <em>[You: youre too sweet]</em>
    </p></div><div class=""><p>He sent a smiling demon sticker, and you could almost hear the pride in his voice through his text.</p></div><div class=""><p>
      <em>[Mammon: ill bring it up in a bit, so just sit tight]</em>
    </p></div><div class=""><p>You looked back to your history textbook, a thick volume opened to a page on a minor riot the old royals had attempted. The only thing you could remember was that it didn’t end very successfully. Diavolo, with the help of his seven rulers, easily squashed the rebellion within two weeks. It had paragraphs more detailing the roles of each ruler and the list of punishment each rioter was subjected to.</p></div><div class=""><p>While the history of the brothers intrigued you, it didn’t stick for very long in your exhausted mind. And the text was ridiculously tiny, straining your eyesight. There was no way you were going to get anything else done tonight.</p></div><div class=""><p>You went back to your D.D.D., the screen blaring against the soft lighting of your room. Mammon’s profile picture grinned back at you, his eyes teasing, and his smirk playful. His orange sunglasses sat snuggly on his face, and with his fingers against his chin, he looked like a dork. He was your dork, though. Your handsome dork. You wouldn’t have him any other way.</p></div><div class=""><p>Your eyes lingered on the last message he sent.</p></div><div class=""><p>
      <em>ill bring it up in a bit, so just sit tight</em>
    </p></div><div class=""><p>Your heart ached.</p></div></div><div class="">
  <p>There was no warning, no prelude, just the sudden throb of something warm through your chest, reverberating in all the empty places just right. Your heart hurt, and you felt the pangs crawl through the rest of your body. Goosebumps broke your skin, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You clutched your phone, closing your eyes to steady yourself. Your heart ached again, rippling outwards, but this time, you knew why.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was love, for Pete’s sake, it was love and adoration and gratefulness. It was all of those feelings and more, so much more that your body could only hurt in the aftershocks of your love, and before you knew it, there was a familiar stinging in your nose and a tightness in your throat.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>[You: its okay im coming down]</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The hallway was colder than your room. The lights left a trail to the kitchen and you wished you were there when Mammon woke up, so that the first thing he saw wouldn’t have to be the dark. You wished you could hold his hand, so that you could tell him you’ll always be there with him. You wished you could hug him, so that he could feel every inch of love from you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your eyes were blurring now, but for entirely different reasons. But your tears didn’t stop you from fumbling down the stairs, missing more steps than you ever had the courage to skip. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see the glinting eyes of the little demons that roamed the shadows. One yellow demon, horns curved in the same shape as Mammon, you noted, flickered into the light when you almost tripped over your feet.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I thought I told you to sit tight.” Mammon caught you as you stumbled to the bottom of the staircase, his hands resting firmly on your shoulders to steady you. There was a slight pout to his lips. “The ramen isn’t ready yet. I was gonna bring it up to ya.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You looked at him. It was one of those rare moments where he decided to forgo his sunglasses, leaving his face bare to the world—leaving <em>himself</em> vulnerable to the world.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>This time, there were no tinted lenses to hide the dark circles lining his eyes, heavy and telling of the many nights he spent without sleep as nightmares haunted his dreams. But his eyes—his eyes were beautiful. They reminded you of the dawn sky, the cool blue melting into the warm rays of the sun. They were still so bright despite having seen so much, and you wanted to cry, to tell him how beautiful he was. The youthfulness of his face was a lie. His face, flawless in its features and unbelieveably smooth, does not tell of the scars littered across his body. He was wonderful, and so so brave.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“H-hey, why ya cryin’?” His perfect brows furrowed, and his hands hesitated beside your face before wiping away your tears, his thumb rough and calloused. “Do you not like ramen? Is that it? You just had to tell me, ya know—”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That’s not it,” you said, fighting the tense ball in your throat. There was so much you wanted to say, so much that you <em>needed</em> to say, but you didn’t even know how to put it in words. You just had to say <em>something, anything</em> to him, so that he knew. “I just, I came down because I want—there’s something I want to tell you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What is it?” Mammon brushed your cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. His hand was as soft as his voice.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You brushed away the hair that fell in front of his eyes, gently, like you were afraid anything rougher would break him. You wanted to say that you thought he was the bravest out of all of his brothers, that he fought a war thousands of years ago and he was still fighting another war, but this time in his mind, that he deserved so much more love and affection than you could ever give him, that he should take a break one day from being his brothers’ anchor, that he didn’t have to be afraid to love someone else again, that being vulnerable wasn’t a bad thing, that you loved each and every side of him as a demon, as a fallen angel, as a <em>being</em>, that you wanted to protect him from all the hard things in life for as long as you live, that you wanted him to see how amazing he was like how you saw him, that you enjoyed his company and how he always brought a smile to your face, that you loved when he acted like a dork, that you appreciated his thoughtfulness and how he brought you ramen at 3 am, that you wanted him to be happy, happier and happier, for the rest of eternity.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But you didn’t. You didn’t, or maybe you couldn’t, so you gave him the biggest smile you could make, dripping with your love, and told him, promised him, reminded him,</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I love you so much, Mammon.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Words weren’t enough. But they’ll have to be, for now.</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. 2 - That moment when Lucifer saw you napping in the common room.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I’ll be claiming the common room.”</p>
<p></p><div class="">
<p></p><div class=""><p>Lucifer’s voice, hushed and firm, drifts its way over to you where you’re curled up on the sofa. Still lingering between the boundary of sleep and wakefulness, you keep your eyes closed, attempting to fall back asleep. It’s been a long and difficult week of all nighters and chugging caffeine, and you have absolutely no energy left in you to bother with anything else except sleep. </p></div><div class=""><p>The door closes with a soft click, and then muted footsteps head your way, nearly drowned out by the crackling of the fireplace. Warmth licks at your side, and you can feel yourself dozing off again, soothed by the flickering of the fire and the smooth scent of Lucifer’s cologne as he stops near you. </p></div><div class=""><p>There’s ruffling before something warm covers you. You snuggle into the fluffy fabric, relishing in the lingering heat. Sighing, you realize that it smells like Lucifer. Softer, but it’s the same spicy smell that you love. </p></div><div class=""><p>A gloved hand gently brushes your hair from your forehead. <em>Leather</em>, you absentmindedly thought. <em>It’s warm</em>. When chapped lips touch where your hair once was, your eyes flutter open, your sight filled with blurred red and black. Lucifer’s coat is wrapped around you, tucked in at sides, and the man himself is in front of you, adoration softening the lines between his brows. </p></div><div class=""><p>“Sleep,” he murmurs against your forehead, pressing another fleeting kiss before he draws away to the other end of the sofa. He crosses his leg, and he’s already back to work, a pile of paperwork stacked on the coffee table and pen in hand. With the sleep fading from your eyes with every blink, you can see his shoulders tense, no longer hidden by the coat he always wore. The crinkle between his brows are back, and in that moment, he looks battered, worn out, and just so so <em>exhausted</em>. </p></div></div><div class="">
  <p>He needs the sleep more than you do. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Lucifer,” you say. He doesn’t turn, eyes focused on the text in front of him. His hand fumbles with the pen.  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You clench his coat, bringing it closer to you. “Lucifer,” you say again, with more firmness as you scoot down the sofa. When you’re basically right next to him, your knees touching his thighs, he faces you, hand squeezing the pen before letting it rest on the papers in his lap.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Go back to sleep,” he says, but you don’t listen. You reach out from underneath the coat to cup his face with gentle fingers, eyes tracing the dark lines underneath his eyes that his magic failed to cover. His skin is way too pale, almost sickly, and his eyes, which once burned with the intensity of the sun, are dim. The fire reflects itself against the black of his irises, only a thin ring of scarlet circling his pupils. Your heart sinks when you realize how cold he is.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why did you give me your coat when you’re freezing?” you ask, pulling away to give his coat back to him when he stops your hands with his own. His gloved hands, warm unlike his face, held your hands against his cheeks. Lucifer leans into your touch, half-lidded eyes moving away from your eyes as he kisses your inner wrist, your pulse beating against his lips.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“To keep you warm,” he answers, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I heard you haven’t had a decent night of sleep for some time.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“But you never do your paperwork in the common room.” <em>Why are you doing it here?</em> The unsaid question echoes in the silence that comes after you speak as his eyes meet yours once again.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“My brothers are noisy.” His voice is soft as the words leave his lips, almost swallowed by the burning fire behind you, but you hear it loud and clear. “I didn’t want them to wake you up.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It might have been the nap, or the way Lucifer is too tired to give a straight answer, but it takes you a minute to read between the lines. His brothers are noisy, and he didn’t want them to wake you up. So he stayed in the same room as you because they would know better to be loud when he’s working. You would get some peace and quiet that only Lucifer’s presence can bring.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your heart swells with love; your eyes, with tears. It’s the way he cares for his family, the way he shows his love in his actions, the way that he’s accepted <em>you</em> as his family that has your heart throbbing. You love him so much, gods, so damn much, and he loves you too, in his own way.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Lucifer, who closed himself off with towering, impenetrable walls to protect the shambles the war left him with. Lucifer, who escaped from the servitude of his Father only to sign himself away for eternity to give his sister another chance at happiness. Lucifer, who must be strong and stronger to protect his brothers as they recover from the war, even now as they suffer through nightmares. Lucifer, who only wanted his family to be happy. Lucifer, who’s body is scarred the most, the wounds tender still. Lucifer, who keeps himself busy so that he wouldn’t have the time to <em>remember</em>. Lucifer, Lucifer, Lucifer, who wouldn’t hesitate to burn himself to keep his brothers warm.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>At your tears, his eyes widen slightly, a hint of panic in his hands as he carefully wipes away your tears, stamping them out with the leather of his gloves. “Don’t cry.” You could almost hear the “<em>please” </em>that died on his lips, but his eyes said what he couldn’t.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You take his hand, removing the glove so you can feel the warmth of his palm against your cheek. The tips of his fingers are cold, but you don’t care. As you cry, you kiss the middle of his palm where he had a scar, thin but long, hoping that he can feel the love and affection behind it. Lucifer watches you, your eyes filling with tears, lips trembling as you press a kiss to each of his fingers, a promise, a declaration, a hope behind each kiss.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You love him, all the good parts that he shows to the world, all the bad parts that he shows behind closed doors, all the parts in between that he doesn’t know how to show. No matter how much he struggles, you’re going to be there for him for the rest of your life. You promise.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“My Morning Star,” you coo, your eyelashes damp with your tears as you press your cheek into his palm. “You light up even the darkest nights. You burn yourself to keep us warm.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Only because I want to.” His thumb caresses your cheek, every touch overflowing with his love. In that moment, with his face lit orange by the fire, the roughness melts away, leaving behind only the softer colors and the barest hint of a smile. A smile warmer than any fire. In that moment, you feel yourself falling even more in love.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You shift yourself until you’re curled into Lucifer’s side, reaching over to cover him with his coat too. When you brush away the bangs that always fall into his eyes, he wraps an arm around you. He feels like home, like the hearth, like comfort, like everything right. You fit so perfectly in his arms.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Let’s take a nap together,” you say, smiling sloppily at him. A smile of a fool in love. “You deserve a break too.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He brings his head down, resting against yours, and you notice that he’s no longer as cold as before.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“If you insist,” he sighs, but it’s not the tired kind of sigh. It’s the warm, happy kind, the one you make when you’re comfortable and the world is all right for once.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>“My Morning Star, let my love keep you warm.”</em>
  </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i cried tears as I wrote all this, so i hope you cry for them too, but you know, crying in the good way. thank you for reading this! &lt;3</p><p>please leave a comment!! I'd love to hear your thoughts!!!!!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. 3 - That moment when Asmodeus cheered you up.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Asmo hummed as he opened a drawer, browsing through his huge selection of high quality nail polish. From where you’re sitting on his bed, you could barely see into it. You noticed that they’re organized by color.</p><p>“Hmm, what color should I pick?” he asked and turned to look at you, eyes squinting just the slightest bit as he tapped his lips in thought.</p><p>You smiled the best you could, criss-crossing your legs, and responded, “I trust your choices, Asmo. You’re the expert here, not me.”</p><p>He smiled back at you, lips curling sweetly around the edges, and he returned to the selection before him.</p><p>“I’m glad you trust me, darling! Your nails will be so beautiful after I’m done, just you wait! It’ll cheer you right up!” Asmo said, spinning around to wink at you as he bumped the drawer with his hips.</p><p>It slid shut, and he showed you the four bottles in his hands. One of them wasn’t nail polish but an assortment of small charms, the same ones that decorated his nails.</p><p>“Does my master approve?” Asmo asked. “I wanted something that will match well with anything you decide to wear, but what matters is if <em>you</em> like it.”</p><p>You were too upset to really care about the color at the moment, so you hummed noncommittally and said, “Yeah, it’s fine.”</p><p>Asmo lowered the nail polishes in his hands and set them to the side, the glass bottles clinking as they’re pushed aside. He kneeled in front of you and took your face between his hands, his palms warm with his natural body heat.</p><p>“My love,” he said, and for once, his tone wasn’t as flamoyant as it used to be, but it was so soft, so gentle with love that you couldn’t help but follow his words. “Look at me.”</p><p>You looked at him. He’s looking at you, and all you could see was his beautiful orange eyes with the barest hint of yellow around the edges. All you could see was the brown lashes that fluttered out as he blinked. All you could see was the way his neat eyebrows furrowed in concern.</p><p>“I understand that you are upset about the test. You’ve been so stressed that your skin has gotten rough, and the lack of sleep made it even worse,” he started off, but not in an unkind way, and gently swiped the skin under your eye with a thumb. “Lucifer may have high expectations for you, but that is under the conditions that you are alive, healthy, and happy. Remember—alive, healthy, and happy.”</p><p>“But this was an important test,” you said sourly, lips curling into a frown. All of the stress from taking the test, the frustrations from studying the topics, the hopeless sensation after you recieved the score—they all seemed to crumble from the weight on your shoulders and revealed themselves in the form of your rapidly blurring eyes. “It was a really important test that could pull my grade up, but I screwed up. I bombed it. I failed.”</p><p>Asmo’s hands fell from your face to hold your hands in his and said, “My love, you know we didn’t bring you here only for you to worry about tests and school. After the school year is over, what use will be your grades?” He chuckled then, interwining his fingers with yours, and added on, “Five months from now, you’ll be shopping with me, picking out some new clothes from Majolish. Ten months from now, we’ll be drunk on alcohol and watching movies together with my brothers. A year from now, you won’t be thinking about this bad test score that you got today.”</p><p>You looked down to your interwined hands and didn’t speak. You knew that one number wouldn’t matter later on in your life, you knew that. But it was the fact that you spent so much time studying, that you put in 110% of yourself yet still received bad results, that you tried so hard yet still failed—you sighed and released one of Asmo’s hand to rub at your eye, the rough heel of it digging into your slightly wet eyelids. You were really, really upset at yourself. There was the underlying insecurity that came with being not good enough, and while usually, you tend to push it out of your mind, today, you couldn’t. Today, you felt so small.</p><p>“Darling,” Asmo murmured and stood up to wrap you into his arms, his warmth welcoming as it enveloped you. You felt his arms across your back, the flat of his palm pressed firmly against your spine, and all of your senses were invaded by Asmo. The smell of him, the sight of him, the feel of him. He smelled faintly of honey and lavender.</p><p>With his chin resting on the top of your head, you were completely buried into his arms. Your hands gripped onto the sides of his jacket.</p><p>“Darling,” Asmo said again, but this time, his voice is just a bit warmer, just a bit softer, just a bit fonder. “Let me treat you to your hard work. It doesn’t matter if you didn’t do well, but it matters, especially to me, that your efforts are acknowledged. Today, it might not be so good, but it can only get better from here. We all have these days. One time, I went to a party with this tuft of hair sticking out the back of my head, and no one told me! Can you believe that? I dolled myself up so well, but that one tuft of bedhair—!”</p><p>You snickered softly into his jacket, but he heard you anyway and gave you a gentle squeeze.</p><p>“Let me take care of you today, my love,” Asmo said, pulling just enough from you so that he could see your face. He smiled and kissed your forehead, purposely making a loud “smooch!” sound before he faced you again. “Pretty please? Will you let me take care of you? I’ve already planned the whole day out! See, I’ll do your nails first, and then we’ll get some masks on. After that, we’ll strip and soak in the bath together! I’ve already decided on the essential oils we’ll be using, but I need your help choosing which soap to use because they’re all just so good! We can spend our evening online shopping, and then, perhaps, maybe you might be interested in some very fun nightly activities?” He sent you a wink.</p><p>You went back into his embrace, face buried in his scarf. “Of course, Asmo. Thank you so much. I really appreciate you,” you said with every inch of your being.</p><p>If it was a regular day, Asmo might have commented on how happy he was that you were so willing to jump into his arms, but today—today, he only laughed, a sound that warmed your heart from the bottom up, a sound that you will cherish forever, a sound only for your ears.</p><p>“Anything for you, my love. You deserve only the best,” he said as you pulled away from the hug, not as upset as you were before Asmo called you into his room. He beamed at you, his eyes curling into lovely crescents and his lips stretching into a beautiful smile.</p><p>You smiled back. It didn’t hurt as much anymore. You were still dismayed by the test score, but the reality of it wasn’t as crushing. It felt like the fog lifted from your head.</p><p>“I like the color you chose,” you said then.</p><p>Amso blinked in momentary surprise before huffing proudly, “Of course you do!”</p><p>He was reaching for the nail polish sitting to the side, picking up the base coat, when you spoke again.</p><p>“It reminds me of you.”</p><p>Asmo whipped his head to you, eyes wide, lips slightly parted, and a light flush to his cheeks.</p><p>
  <em>What a lovely sight. </em>
</p><p>This moment might have been an insignificant one in all of the moments that Asmo has experienced in his lengthy life, but you won’t ever forget the feeling of love lingering on your skin—<em>his</em> love.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. 4 - That moment when you baked cream puffs with Leviathan.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What are you making?” you asked, peeking over Levi’s arms.</p><p>“GAH!” Levi yelped. “BEGONE, DEMONS!—oh. It’s just you. Why did you sneak up on me??? It’s not fair for my poor heart, okay.” </p><p>Levi set down the spatula into the bowl and patted his chest a few times, clearly spooked by your unannounced arrival. You felt bad for scaring him, but his reaction was utterly adorable. There was a faint blush across his cheeks, and all you wanted to do was see it again and again.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” you said sincerely, giving his head a few pats for good measure. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” </p><p>The blush deepened at the contact between you two, but Levi didn’t push you away. He only turned his head and grumbled with a small pout, “It’s fine, I forgive you.” </p><p>You looked at the dough in the bowl, the cup of beaten eggs on the counter, and the bottles of whip cream neatly lined up to the side. “So, what are you making? Do you need any help?” you asked. </p><p>He perked up instantly, and all lingering signs from the scare vanished. As he whipped out his D.D.D. from his pocket, he began explaining to you.</p><p>“So, you see,” Levi began, his fingers moving furiously against the screen, “in the anime ‘The Magical Ruri Hanai: Demon Girl’, in one episode, Ruri-chan visited one of her human friends and they made cream puffs together, and as I was rewatching that episode, seeing Ruri-chan enjoying her cream puffs that she made with her own two hands also made me want to make my own cream puffs, because if I make it myself, then it’ll be like eating it with Ruri-chan, you know, but I’ve never made cream puffs before so I’m following a recipe and yeah. That’s where I am right now—Did you get all that? You look a little dazed.”</p><p>When Levi talked about something he’s passionate about, the purple in his eyes rose and fell in accordance to his emotions. It’s something that took you a while to notice, but once you did, you couldn’t stop staring. For example, when Levi was sad, the purple swallowed most of the orange, leaving behind a sliver of dark orange. And when Levi was angry, and you meant really angry, only a tiny amount of purple circled his pupil. The bright orange consumed all other colors, and it almost seemed to glow. But when Levi was happy, that’s when his eyes were the warmest orange. The purple was mild, nestled underneath hues of oranges—you thought it was a beautiful combination of colors.</p><p>Like currently. You were utterly entranced by the way the orange seeped into the paler orange, pushing down the purple until all you could see was the sunset in his eyes. Too entranced that you appeared dazed to Levi, but not to the point that you didn’t listen to what he was saying. </p><p>When you refocused again, Levi turned away to the ingredients on the countertop, hands reaching for his headphones only to meet the collar of his cardigan. It seemed to be a habit of his. When he was nervous or feeling out of place, he often reached for his headphones to feel safe, to feel protected against the world. But he didn’t have them today, probably because he planned on baking and didn’t want them to get dirty or to get in the way. </p><p>“Of course,” Levi mumbled, tugging his cardigan closer to his body, “I shouldn’t expect a normie like you to understand, why did I even bother? There’s no way you would care about something stupid—”</p><p>“I was listening,” you said firmly. “By making cream puffs, you will feel like you’re eating them with Ruri-chan, right? It’s not stupid at all, Levi. I think the idea is adorable. Can we make them together?”</p><p>Levi spluttered and turned further away from you, red ears peeking out of his hair. </p><p>“That-that’s not fair! Acting so cute, especially with that head tilt! It’s like you’re trying to KO me!” Levi complained, but he finally turned to look at you. However, his eyes were constantly moving between the bowl of batter and your face. “Although… if it’s on purpose, I, uh, I wouldn’t necessarily mind… BUT that’s not the problem here! Are you sick or something? Why did you look so out of it? Like, like something came and ate your soul! You can’t let anyone eat your soul, okay?!”</p><p>There was no need for shame in this house, so you confessed with a straight face. Besides, there wasn’t any reason to hide it from Levi, whose concern for your soul had his hands on your shoulders, all of his inhibitions regarding intimacy out the window. </p><p>“I got distracted by your eyes,” you said honestly. “When you’re really happy, your eyes are this really pretty shade of orange. It reminds me of sunsets and autumn trees that we have in the human world.” </p><p>It took Levi a minute or two to process what you just said, but when it registered, he froze up. His hands clamped down harder on your shoulders, fingers squeezing you as he choked out, “A-ah… I, I see…” </p><p>His eyes bore holes into your clothes, not daring to meet yours, as red bloomed beautifully on his cheeks. It was just tempting you to touch it, to feel the warm soft skin with your fingertips, to encourage the blush with pinching and kneading, but just as you started to move for his cheeks, Levi removed himself from you and showed you a picture of cream puffs, drawn in a familiar anime style.</p><p>“Th-this, AHEM, this is what Ruri-chan made,” Levi said, the blush still lingering on his cheeks as he explained. “She cuts it completely in half and then they put the cream inside.“ Then, he swiped to another picture. “This is the recipe I found. I’ve already cooked the dough on the stove, so all I have left is to mix the perfect amount of eggs into the dough.”</p><p>You lowered the hand that was reaching for Levi’s face and smiled at him. Even though you really wanted to touch his cheeks, you were still satisfied from the way Levi was enjoying himself with baking. It was rare to see Levi so unbridled and unabashed with his happiness in a public space, although perhaps the House of Lamentation wouldn’t count as public. </p><p>Something this rare... you didn’t dare disrupt. </p><p>“Then, let’s mix the eggs together,” you offered, turning to grab the measuring cup of beaten eggs. “Is this the amount that we need?”</p><p>Levi picked up the spatula he had set down earlier and replied, “There’s four eggs in there, but the recipe said that it’s really finicky. We just have to make the dough a good consistency. Let’s see… we need it shiny, thick, and smooth.”</p><p>The mixing went well. Levi was extremely strict with making sure the dough came out well, and while you did some baking before here and there, you definitely weren’t an expert on the amount of eggs that needed to be in cream puff dough. You were glad Levi knew enough for the cream puffs to come out looking absolutely delicious, because you weren’t sure if your heart could handle Levi breaking down into tears. </p><p>“Be careful when you’re cutting it in half,” Levi said nervously, watching closely as you sliced a cream puff. “Don’t get hurt, okay? I’ll freak out if you do. I don’t know how to reattach fingers, so I’ll probably have to go get Satan but wouldn’t it be too late by then? How long does it take before human fingers aren't able to reattach? Ah, but we have magic so—”</p><p>“Levi,” you said, patting his arm in a consoling manner, “I understand your concerns, but I’ll be fine. I promise to be extra careful, but you shouldn’t hold the whipped cream can—”</p><p><em> Pop</em>. </p><p>“—so tightly…” you finished, but it was already too late. </p><p>The bottle of whipped cream, branded with a logo of Little Devil, exploded from the top. Some of the cream decorated the kitchen countertop in white spots and some fell on your hand, but most of it landed on Levi. You could barely see his face through the thick layer of white.</p><p>“...”</p><p>“Pfffftttt—cough, cough!” you started laughing, only to immediately cover it with coughs. It didn’t sound believable at all, but you continued on, setting the knife to the side. “Levi, are you okay?” </p><p>Before he could respond, much of the cream fell from his face in a huge glob, leaving behind a white coating with varying thickness and two spots where his eyes were. You choked back the laughter as best as you could, but it was hard to stop your lips from twitching. It wasn’t helping that he looked somewhat like a clown.   </p><p>“Are, are you okay, Levi?” you asked again, biting down on your lips to stop it from forming into a smile. “That’s a lot of whipped cream…”</p><p>Levi opened his mouth, but you couldn’t see his lips at all, only a dark, gaping hole that opened and closed. </p><p>“Unbelievable…” he said, and you would have helped him clean the cream off his face if you didn’t absolutely lose it then and there, doubling over as you wheezed, slapping a hand against your thigh. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” you gasped, “but, oh my goodness, Levi, you—AHAHAHA, you look like a clown! A <em>clown</em>! Levi, I’m so sorry but—”</p><p>When you took another look at Levi, he was looking at you in equal parts disappointment and embarrassment as he wiped off most of the white cream with a hand, washing it under the faucet. </p><p>Even though most of the whipped cream was gone, the look he sent you almost launched you into another wheezing fit, but you steadied yourself as you wiped the tears from your eyes. </p><p>“Unbelievable,” Levi grumbled, but this time you could see the pout on his lips and the absolutely adorable way his eyebrows furrowed together. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” you said again, with a bit of guilt, and reached for the remaining cream hanging onto his bangs. “Here, let me get that—”</p><p>Levi caught your hand.</p><p>“You complete idiot,” he complained as he brought your hand to his lips. “Cruel and heartless, I can’t believe you’re my master… Normally, I wouldn’t forgive you for a hundred years but… ” He trailed off, and his eyes, the color of coral, met yours for a brief second before his eyes eluded yours, and his tongue peeked out and licked the whipped cream that had landed on the back of your hand. </p><p>Your eyes followed the retracting tongue and the way it swiped gently against his pink lips as it passed through. Dazed, you only processed what had happened when the kitchen air blew against the wet patch on your hand, the cold sensation and the realization warming up your face. </p><p>Now, <em> you </em> were the one blushing. </p><p>Levi finished with a whisper, “You’re lucky I love you.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I would like to thank everyone for the comments! I'm not very good with responding to comments because I'm not sure exactly how to respond, but I read all of them! Promise! </p><p>Here is the link to the cream puffs: https://sallysbakingaddiction.com/choux-pastry/<br/>I've never made cream puffs before, and you can probably tell, but it's okay. That's not important when there's Levi.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. 5 - That moment when you found Satan covered in blood.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warning: Blood (but no gore)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Devildom does not tolerate slander, and <em> I </em> , most certainly, will not sit quietly when <em> my </em> human is being talked about in such a filthy manner. Now, I’m sure you know this, but I have connections in every layer of the Devildom. If I ever hear anything <em> remotely </em> similar again, whether it’d be in text or words, <b>there will be consequences</b>.”</p><p>The Devildom was always dark, and it was something you’ve long gotten used to, but it was way, way darker in alleyways where the streetlights never reach. Within the shadows of a small alley, you heard a familiar voice. </p><p>“Satan?” you called out. You didn’t want to step into the shadows, knowing of the potential danger in doing so, but you wanted to see Satan again. You wanted to see him safe, and so you hesitated in the walkway, wondering what you should do. </p><p>Satan had just suddenly walked away from you earlier. He didn’t say a word to you as he left, only leaving a hint of anger—pure, unfiltered <b> <em>anger</em> </b> , ready to burst into something darker, more dangerous—in the sound of footsteps and in the bond of your pact. You felt it sparking in your chest, like firecrackers going off, but at one point in your search for Satan’s whereabouts, your head spun at the amount of rage swirling in you. You heaved, wanting so badly to thrash and to shout and to destroy <em> something </em>. </p><p>You whirled around in circles on the street, the colors and shapes mixing around you in blurs, and you were dangling dangerously on the edge of falling head first into the abyss of wrath until— </p><p>
  <em> Satan, where are you? Satan, please be safe. Satan, are you okay? Satan, Satan, Satan, I need to find Satan, I need to make sure he’s okay. Don’t leave me here, please…  </em>
</p><p>You thought of him. </p><p>It was the thought of Satan, of seeing him safe and sound, of seeing that wonderful smile on his face again that pulled you back into a more rational state of mind, enough so that you could restart your search. With one feet in front of the other, you took a deep breath. </p><p>And now, you’d finally found him, but…</p><p>A heavy silence filled the air. Every second that passed made you worry more and more. From what you heard, you were sure something had gone down. It wasn’t that you were worried about his physical well-being (although, it was still a point of concern for you), you were much more worried about his mental well-being, which had always been rather fragile compared to his brothers. </p><p>You weren’t saying that he was fragile, but rather that it didn’t take much to set him off. He might be able to hide his emotions extremely well, but he felt them harder, and they lingered longer—much, much longer. It was this vulnerability that made you worried.</p><p>You couldn’t help but call out again, “Satan? Are you okay?”</p><p>It was only after that did a familiar figure slowly walked out, the shadows clinging onto the flickering form of Satan. His eyes were a cold, harsh green—so lovely yet so dangerous with that dark glint in his eyes—and they glowed, like a warning, against the backdrop of night. </p><p>Several sharp slashes of red stained his cheeks. Droplets hung to the blonde strands of hair hanging above his eyes. And you could see similar splatters dying his gray shirt, although most of it were hidden by his boa. </p><p>“My beloved,” Satan murmured, and the flickering between his human form and demon form increased in intensity, almost resembling an old TV with static. </p><p>He stumbled towards you, conflict coloring his cold eyes, and you couldn’t help but look behind him at the shadowy corner. If it was you from when you first came to the Devildom, you would have felt sorry for those poor souls, but now—now, the only person on your mind was Satan.</p><p>You took his hand and pulled him away from the alleyway to some place with more light, some place with more breathing room, some place <em> safe </em>. He followed obediently behind you, letting you take him to wherever you wanted. </p><p>It was this trust Satan placed in you that made your heart clenched tight, beating along to the sound of your hurried footsteps<em> . </em>His breathing wasn’t loud, but you heard it anyway—gasping, pausing, hitching. The wrath had died down the moment you called out his name, and now you were left with nothing but your own thoughts and feelings swirling inside you. You wondered what was going on in his mind, what emotions he was feeling, what you could do for him. You wondered and wondered, and all sorts of thoughts cluttered your head, but you didn’t say anything until you stopped near a street lamp off to the side.</p><p>Lit by the pale white light, you finally saw Satan from head to toe. The flickering has subsided greatly, leaving him in his gray dress shirt, his ribbon, his boa, and his spotted pants, but his horns and tail were absent. There was a bit of dissonance at the sight of him in his demon outfit but without the demon features, and it seemed Satan felt it too with how his eyebrows were furrowed, and how the pale green in his eyes was growing agitated. </p><p>“You can stay in your demon form, you know,” you said softly, taking his other hand in yours and squeezing them. “You don’t have to hide them from me. I’m not scared.”</p><p>“I—” Satan began to say, but then he looked down at your hands, and he was jerking away, pulling his hands from yours.</p><p>It wasn’t hurt that you felt first, but rather concern, a kind of fear that has always nested deep at the bottom of your heart, a pain that didn’t come from the rejection but from how <em> Satan </em>was hurting, and you wanted nothing more but to hold him again.</p><p>So that’s what you did.</p><p>You reached out for his hands, determined not to lose him, but—</p><p>“Your, your hands,” Satan breathed out, trembling almost invisibly. His eyes were trained on your hands, and you finally looked down at them.</p><p>Semi-dried blood coated the surface of your palms along with your fingers, but you didn’t see any problems with it, especially since it wasn’t your blood. A thought knocked into your head then—you wondered if the blood was his. </p><p>You looked back up at Satan, who had taken a few steps back, his hands gripping roughly at his hair. </p><p>“The blood isn’t mine. Is it yours? Are you injured?” you asked, the words wanting to jump out of your mouth, but you held them back, urging them to stay calm and steady, lest the hurriedness of your speech scare Satan off.  </p><p>“No… no, it’s not mine, and that’s <em> exactly </em>—” he broke off, lips pursed, and you couldn’t help but notice how his hands shook as he unintentionally smeared more blood into his hair, turning the once beautiful golden strands into something darker.</p><p>Satan fell to his knees.</p><p>It came so suddenly. One moment, he seemed like he would break apart into a million different pieces if you were too rough, and the next moment he was on his knees, forehead pressed to the ground, his fingers twitching forward like he wanted to touch something but didn’t dare to. </p><p>“That’s exactly the reason why,” Satan whispered. His voice was so small, so weak. Each syllable quivered delicately on his tongue as they escaped him, hoarse and afraid. “I, I’ve <em> stained </em> you. Let you see something you should never have to see. Your beautiful hands should never have to touch something as dirty as blood. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.” </p><p>You stared at the way he was almost curled into himself on the ground. Satan, who has always been so prideful, so full of confidence in himself and the vast amount of knowledge—Satan, who has always been aware of how he handled himself, every move thought out, every remark a well crafted reply—Satan, who used to look down at you, now, was in front of you, not daring to look into your eyes. </p><p>“I never wanted you to see me truly angry, to, to see me violent with my wrath. Violent with bloodshed and bodies and carnage. This side of me you should never see, it’s unsightly, and something so unsightly should never grace your eyes. And because of it, I left you alone when I shouldn’t—”</p><p>“That’s not it, is it?”</p><p>“Huh?” Satan lifted his head up in surprise, eyes wide with a hundred thousand emotions flying past them, yet you could understand none of them except for one. He had always been a mystery to you. A carefully composed mystery that lured you in deeper and deeper, until you were completely unable to extricate yourself from him. But sometimes, he hid himself so well, he composed himself so neatly, he closed himself off so tightly that he, himself, would forget what he was truly feeling.</p><p>“That’s not it,” you repeated, but this time as a statement. Squatting down to get closer to him, you ran a hand through his hair, brushing some of the blood away, and swiped your thumb against his bloody cheek. </p><p>He tensed under your touch but gradually relaxed to it, enough to fully switch back into his human outfit, and you noticed how his eyes were glossy. There was a light wet sheen over them, but you were sure you were also the same. Between the two of you, all differences revealed themselves in the forms of adjacency, of opposites, of analogs. </p><p>You cupped his face in your hands, and he finally looked at you. You’ve always loved his eyes—that dark, forest green with a depth that you could never decipher. </p><p>“You’re afraid,” you murmured, thumbs tracing the slope of his face. “But what are you truly afraid of? Will you tell me?”</p><p>Satan stared at you for a moment with his eyebrows furrowed, as if he was trying to find answers from your face alone. You waited for him. You would always wait for him. You would wait centuries for Satan, if only he didn’t feel so close to disappearing in your hands.</p><p>“Of course,” he said, and the silence broke under the weight of the promise underlying his words. He gently held your wrist, his thumb settling on top of your pulse. “Of course, I’ll tell you. Only you.”</p><p>A pause.</p><p>Then, Satan looked down, and you felt something wet settle on your fingers. </p><p>“I’m afraid that you will disappear,” he whispered. “I’m afraid that one day, you will really see me for who I am and leave me behind. Every moment seems so unreal, and I feel like if I don’t confirm your presence, I will wake up and realize this is all a dream. A beautiful, wonderful dream that I could never experience again. I don’t want this to end. I want you to stay by my side forever, until all eight layers of the Devildom collapsed, until the end of time itself. I’m afraid of a day without you. I’m afraid of never seeing you again. I’m afraid of losing you. I’m afraid of so much, but there is so little I can control.”</p><p>He stopped and took a deep breath, like he was living his fears in his mind, but when he saw the tears building up in your eyes, he pulled out a green handkerchief from his pocket. You vaguely saw embroidery of your name on a corner as he pressed it against the corners of your eyes, careful of the blood on his hand, even though you could see a tear rolling down his face. </p><p>“My beloved,” he said softly, as soft as a kiss, “I can’t imagine my world without you, so please, <em> please</em>, don’t suddenly disappear one day.”</p><p>You disregarded everything and pulled him into your embrace, squeezing him hard. There was so much in your mind, clanging against each other in an effort to be first in line to be said, but any thoughts were overshadowed by the pain in your heart, consumed by that clenching sensation where you felt like your heart was being crushed by an invisible hand. </p><p>“I want every side of you, every piece, every emotion,” you sniffed. “I want everything that is yours, and in return, you can have everything that is mine. I’m not afraid of you, Satan, and I never will be. No matter what, no matter if all eight layers of the Devildom collapse, no matter if time ends, there won’t be a moment I would go without loving you. So please, please don’t be afraid. Not when I’m here with you.”</p><p>You set his hand on your chest, where you could feel your emotions running rampant, where you could feel the fear chewing away at your insides, where you could feel your heart beating—<em> badump, badump, badump. </em></p><p>“Can you feel it?” you asked. “Can you feel what I’m feeling? My soul is eternally linked to yours. Our pact is the first proof of that.”</p><p>Satan smiled, a breathtaking smile that had his eyes curving, the vibrant emerald green of his eyes soft with love, and while he didn’t say a word, you could feel it—</p><p>The overwhelming <b> <em>relief</em> </b>. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>don't look at me, I didn't cry while I was writing this, nope nope</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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